


Adrenaline and Aftermath

by Sarahtoo



Series: Phrack Fucking Friday [5]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, I Don't Even Know, Phrack Fucking Friday, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:36:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9563420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Phryne and Jack are caught in a life-threatening event, and their reaction is... well, itisPFF, after all.





	

“There’s a cabin, Jack!”

Phryne’s voice rang loudly in the cold air of the Alps, carrying across the distance between them in crystal tones. They’d been hiking for an hour from where their rented car had broken down on a picturesque but far too mountainous road between Lausanne and Lucerne. They’d taken a side road that a man in the small village where they’d stopped for lunch had recommended for its views. He’d been right—the views were phenomenal, all blue skies and snow and mountainous peaks—but when the sky darkened to gray and the wind picked up, Jack had begun to worry. When the snow began to fall, he’d upgraded to concerned, and when the car had sputtered and died, miles from anywhere, he’d gone into full-fledged emergency mode.

They’d left the car behind, knowing that their best bet would be to find a private home along the road; they’d packed up what food they had with them and layered on their clothing in an attempt to stay warm, but it was still terribly cold. The snow was coming down heavily now, and Jack wasn’t even sure if they were still on the road. He squinted to where Phryne was forging through a snowdrift up to her knees; looking past her, he could see the roof of the cabin she’d spotted. It was nestled at the bottom of a hill, and there was no smoke coming from the chimney. Possibly abandoned, then, but he hoped it’d be intact enough to get them through the storm.

“Come on, Jack!” Phryne called, and Jack could see her face, red-cheeked and smiling, as she looked back over her shoulder at him. 

“I’m coming, Miss Fisher,” he responded, and marveled at the way his voice seemed to ricochet around the clearing, bouncing off of the slope of the mountain above the cabin and reverberating, its echo louder than he would have expected. 

He picked up his pace, ready to get out of the wind, and hoping that there’d be wood available to make a fire. He didn’t think he’d ever been this cold, even during that blizzard in the mountains outside Melbourne the previous year. He smiled, thinking of how Phryne had tried to get him to come into her bedroom that night but he’d deemed it too risky—in hindsight, he wished he’d taken her up on the invitation, since the change of their relationship from friends to lovers had gone so smoothly.

He was still smiling when the sound registered—a low, growling noise almost like thunder. The smile slipped off of his face as he glanced over at the slope behind the cabin. He didn’t see any motion, but the snow let out an ominous creak. His heart racing, he moved more quickly, gauging the distance between them and the cabin and hoping that the cabin was sturdy enough to provide shelter.

“Phryne!” She stopped, turning to look at him, her face questioning the urgency in his tone. “Run, Phryne—avalanche!” He pointed, and she whirled, her eyes searching the hill. “Get to the cabin, Phryne, quickly!”

He surged ahead of her, using his greater weight to break a pathway through the snow. They were still a long way away from the dubious safety of the cabin, and if that snow started moving, it wouldn’t take long before it reached them. 

“Grab onto my belt, Phryne! We have to get inside!” The groaning, grumbling sound was louder now, and he had to shout to be heard. If she replied, he didn’t hear it, but her felt her fingers wrap around the back of his trousers, their cold intrusion hardly noticeable in the urgency of the moment.

He forged ahead, his breath heaving, taking quick glances over at the slope. How long had it been since he’d heard the first rumblings? Thirty seconds? A minute? He’d read that avalanches could dump more than a ton of snow across the base of a mountain in less than five minutes, and he and Phryne were right in this one’s path.

“Jack! It’s coming!” Phryne’s voice was frightened—more frightened than he’d ever heard her. He snuck a glance to the side and his heart squeezed. He could see the snow beginning to slide now, its impact on the jagged rocks in its path throwing up great clouds that loomed overhead, rushing down upon them.

Jack redoubled his pace, running as much as he dared through the snow; they were almost to the cabin when Phryne cried out and he felt her hand slip away from his belt. Whirling, he searched for her—between the falling snow and the clouds the slide was kicking up, she was almost invisible. If it hadn’t been for the bright red of her ski gear, he might not have found her, even knowing that she’d been right behind him.

“Phryne!” He called her name, pushing back through the track they’d made. 

“Jack, here!” He focused on her voice, shutting out the imminent danger as best he could. When he found her, she was sitting in the snow. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “It’s my ankle,” she shouted. “I’ve turned it!”

“All right, then,” he shouted, pulling her hands to get her to her feet. When she tried to put weight on her injured foot, he realized that she wouldn’t be able to move as quickly as they needed to. “Up you go!” He bent, setting his shoulder to her midsection, and pulled her up and over as he straightened. Clasping his hand around her thigh, he turned, eyeing the onrushing snow and the remaining distance to the cabin. “Hold on!”

With a surge of energy that stemmed from terror, he picked up his pace yet again, cutting a path through the snow as fast as he could. He aimed for the lee side of the cabin, hoping that even if they couldn’t get in immediately, the bulk of the structure would keep them from being buried. In less time than he would have expected, he was standing in front of the cabin door; reaching out, he tried the handle, but it didn’t budge. Locked.

“Hurry, Jack! It’s coming!” He felt Phryne’s hands on his back as she pushed herself up to see over the top of the cabin, and the fear in her voice set his heart racing. He had to get her inside. 

The rumble of the snow was even louder now, and powdery snow was drifting over the roof of the cabin, enveloping them in clouds of white that would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so deadly. With a grunt, Jack lifted his foot and kicked at the door. It shuddered with the impact of his foot but didn’t give. He glanced up—the snow was thick around them and the roar of the avalanche was deafening. He kicked at the door again, then again. With the third impact of his foot, the door opened with a sharp _crack_ , and Jack ducked inside, snow swirling around them. He set Phryne down, the bag of supplies he’d been carrying dropping to the ground with thump as he pushed the door closed again; looking around, he spotted a table and chairs in the alcove that appeared to be the kitchen.

“Hold the door, Phryne,” he ground out, and when she turned to press her hands against it, he stepped away, crossing the room in two strides to lift one of the chairs and bring it back to wedge it beneath the door handle. It rattled, but held the door closed, letting only an occasional puff of snow into the room.

With the door secured, he wrapped his arms around Phryne’s waist, taking her weight against his chest; she slid her arms around his neck. As the avalanche roared around them, the cabin shuddered and Jack buried his face in Phryne’s neck, his chest heaving with exertion; he could feel the pounding of her pulse against his cheek, and she gasped for breath. Phryne’s fingers clenched in his hair, pulling at him—Jack lifted his head and turned to catch her eyes; then his mouth was on hers. 

Their kiss was filled with a frantic energy; Phryne’s arms tightened on his neck and her tongue slid into his mouth as their teeth and lips clashed. Jack stood up, pulling her with him, and Phryne wrapped her legs around his waist. Jack could feel the heat of her against his groin, and he knew she could feel how hard he was. Cupping his hands under her thighs, Jack took the two steps to the kitchen table again, setting her bottom on the edge. 

“God, Jack, please,” she whimpered, pulling his hips closer.

“I could have lost you,” he murmured, his hands pulling at her clothes. She dragged her arms from around his neck and slid them down his chest, pushing his heavy coat off of his shoulders as she went. He tugged at her sweater, rucking it and her other layers up under her arms to bare her breasts; as soon as they were visible, he dipped his head to take her nipple into his mouth. Phryne fumbled at his belt, opening his trousers and shoving them down over his hips, then unbuttoning the flap of his union suit; she wrapped cool hands around his cock—when had she shed her gloves?—and he sucked in a harsh breath. 

“Phryne, please,” he moaned, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her trousers to pull them down her hips. Phryne set one hand on the table to push herself up so that he could pull her pants and underwear down. With a grunt, he reached behind to grasp her ankle, tugging at her boot. When the first boot slid off of her foot and fell with a thump, he moved to the other.

Phryne’s cry of pain made him lift his head, wondering what he’d done.

“My foot, Jack,” she said, one hand reaching to touch the injured area.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry,” he breathed, straightening as if to move away from her.

“No, Jack, it doesn’t matter right now,” she said, grabbing at his jumper. “Just… leave that boot on. I need you!”

Jack clenched his jaw, her words bringing his own need roaring back as loudly as the avalanche. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her with a desperation that he hoped never to feel again. His hands at her hips, he pulled her trousers down and off her uninjured leg, then stepped back between her thighs. Sliding his fingers up the inside of her leg, he tested her readiness to take him—she was dripping with arousal, and at the touch of his fingers, she let out a cry, her hand clenching in his hair again, her teeth closing on his bottom lip.

“Now, Jack,” she growled against his mouth.

“Phryne,” he groaned, fitting his cock at her opening and sliding wetly inside. 

Their coupling was raw, Jack’s hips pounding into Phryne’s, her hands in his hair and around his waist curling into claws; he felt the prick of her nails as they dug into his skin and knew there’d be marks. The thought made him groan, and Jack pressed his face into her neck again, his mouth opening against the soft skin of her throat; he slid one hand up and under her clothing to squeeze her breast, his hand working in time with the thrusts of his hips. For a moment, the roar of the avalanche still pounding against the cabin was overridden by the sound of their huffing breaths and the slapping of flesh against flesh. Phryne’s ecstatic wail as she came rang through the cabin, and it harmonized with Jack’s deep shout as he pulled out of her body to spill his seed across her stomach. Their arms tightened around each other, the seizure of their muscles in pleasure morphing into a hug that telegraphed each one’s relief that they’d managed to make it to this point, alive and relatively unscathed.

“Goodness, Jack,” she breathed into his ear. “Perhaps we should get caught in life-threatening situations more often.”

His chuckle rolled into a full-bodied laugh, and he threw his head back to let it out; watching him, Phryne began to laugh as well, and they held each other as the laughter smoothed the edges of their fear. Still chuckling, Jack pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back, hitching his trousers up around his waist. 

“Well, I’m not cold anymore, so that’s something.” His smile flashed and hers answered it. “Sorry about the mess, though.” Fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket, he gently cleaned her stomach, then helped her slide her leg back into her pants and long underwear, fastening them around her waist as she straightened her sweater and the layers beneath it.

“Let’s have a look at this ankle, shall we?” Jack’s smile was warm, and Phryne nodded, scooting backward on the table to sit more comfortably. As he worked to loosen her boot and pull it off her foot, Phryne looked around the cabin with interest.

The place looked as if it might be a holiday cottage—it had an unused feel but was well-kept. The main room and the kitchen area were small but well-appointed, with a comfortable-looking couch set in front of a fireplace flanked by tall stacks of wood. On the floor before the fire lay an enormous brown bearskin rug, complete with claws and growling head. Phryne’s eyebrows went up, and she smiled speculatively. That might be fun later.

Directly across from the front door, another door was cut into the wall, and she thought it likely led to a bedroom. If they were lucky, the bedroom would not have any windows to have been shattered by the snow.

“Well, it’s not exactly the Windsor,” Phryne quipped, and Jack looked up from her foot, glancing around the room. “But it’ll do.” 

She looked back down at him, his hair standing up in spots from the clenching of her fingers, and her smile was tender. Raising her hand to his head, she smoothed his hair, loving the small quirk her actions brought to his lips. 

“This appears to only be twisted—we’ll elevate it, get some snow on it, and you should be right as rain by morning.” He pressed a kiss to the injured ankle, then straightened and helped her slide off the table onto her good foot, then across the room to settle her on the sofa with a small pillow under her foot. Looking around, he found a blanket hanging on a ladder-style quilt rack and brought it over to drape across her legs. “I’ll start a fire, and then we can see what might be available for our dinner.”

Suiting actions to words, he knelt in front of the fireplace. With efficient motions, he set logs and kindling, then struck a match he’d found in a small box on the mantel. Whistling, he moved to pick up their bag and take it to the kitchen table. 

“Let’s see, what do we have?” He pulled various items out of the bag, naming them as he went. “Caviar, crackers, half a baguette, some cheese, and a box of chocolates.” Setting his hands on his hips, he glanced over at Phryne. “We’ll eat like kings, Miss Fisher.”

“It’s the only way to travel, Jack,” she quipped. Her ankle was aching, but her body thrummed with the satisfaction of a good orgasm. “Perhaps we could eat over here, in front of the fire? It’ll take a while for the room to warm up…” 

Her words trailed off as the absence of sound outside the cabin registered. The roar of the snow had seemed to last forever, but somehow she hadn’t noticed it ceasing. Now that she’d registered it, the silence seemed to have almost as big an impact on her senses.

Jack looked over from where he was searching for plates in the kitchen cabinets. “Miss Fisher?”

“The snow,” she said, stretching her neck to look through the windows at the front of the small house, “it’s stopped.”

Jack’s eyes moved to the front door. The chair he’d propped under the handle had stopped rattling, standing still as stone before the door. Closing the cabinet door, he strode over to look out a window.

“Well?” Phryne’s tone was impatient, and she knew it. Stupid ankle. She wanted to leap up and see for herself what the state of things was outside.

“There doesn’t appear to be any more snow coming down the mountain, though it’s still snowing. The door isn’t blocked, either—that’s a good thing.” He turned to look at her. “It’s still going to be quite a hike to find someone to fix the car. I hope your ankle will be up to it tomorrow.” He moved back to the kitchen. “We should stay here tonight, though. There are a few nonperishables in the cupboards if we get hungry—flour, some tinned meat, tea—”

“Oh, tea!” The words escaped her in a rush, and Jack sent her one of his small smiles.

“I’ll put the kettle on then, shall I?” He tried the pump handle in the corner of the kitchen, and with a groan of the pipes, icy water gushed out to fill the bucket hooked over the spout. Jack poured some into the kettle, then found a clean cloth and dipped it as well, bringing it over to Phryne. “I thought you might still be sticky. From earlier.”

Phryne smiled at him, taking the cloth. “Thank you, darling. Though I must say, I’m rather hoping that we’ll get sticky again later.” Jack smirked at her even as he leaned in for a kiss, his mouth warm and unhurried.

When he pulled back, he stroked her cheekbone before straightening. “Let’s get some snow to put on that ankle, love.”

He opened the front door to a blast of cold air and scooped some snow into a bowl. Taking a close look at the lock he’d broken, he frowned a little.

“I think I’ll be able to repair this. It might not lock, but at least it’ll latch.” Closing the door again and replacing the chair beneath its knob, he moved back into the kitchen to create a cloth-wrapped snow pack that he brought over to drape onto Phryne’s twisted ankle. When the kettle’s whistle rang through the room, he put the tea on to steep, then moved to open the final door. 

“It’s a bedroom, all right. No windows,” he called back to her, “and plenty of blankets. No plumbing, I’m afraid—only a chamber pot.” 

Phryne grimaced at this information, but, well, they would work with what they had. Closing the door, Jack went to pour the tea. 

“Do you want to move into the bedroom?” He handed her a steaming mug, then sat beside her on the couch, his own cup wrapped in his long fingers.

“No, thank you,” she replied, breathing in the hot beverage, her eyes fluttering in pleasure. “I’m quite comfortable here, with you and Seymour there for company.”

“Seymour?” Jack looked around, trying to spot the bearer of that name. When his eyes fell to the bearskin rug, he burst out laughing. “I love it. Shall we picnic on Seymour, then?”

“Mmm, an excellent idea, Jack,” she murmured. 

He gave her a sideways look. “You’re plotting something.”

“Me?” She widened her eyes, doing her best not to smile. “I’m injured. How could I?”

“I believe you can do anything you set your mind to, Miss Fisher.” He patted her knee. “I’ll get our dinner.”

He brought over a plate and then helped Phryne move from the sofa down to the plush fur of the rug. With the fire crackling merrily in the hearth, the room was warming up, and they both began shedding layers until they were down to only a few by the time they’d finished eating.

Jack set the empty plate aside and stretched out on the rug, resting his head against the back of the bear’s.

“You know, if it wasn’t for the fact that we have no way to get out of here tomorrow, I’d be quite content to stay just like this.” His voice was low, his eyes at half-mast. He rested his mug on his chest, steadying it with one hand; his other hand reached out to cup Phryne’s hip. “It’s very quiet, and I’m warm, and you’re here—what else could a man want?”

“Maybe a little something more substantial stocked for breakfast?” Phryne set her mug aside, stretching out to lay her head against his chest. He’d shucked everything but his union suit in the heat of the fire, and she toyed with his buttons as she listened to his heart beating strongly in his chest.

“Ah, yes, perhaps that.” He dipped his head to press a kiss to the top of her head, his arm enfolding her.

“You know what I like about this place, Jack?” Phryne slid her fingers inside his suit to rest on the warm skin of his chest, bending a knee to draw it up and over his thigh.

“What’s that, love?”

“Seymour.” At his huff of laughter, she propped herself up on one elbow. “No really!” Her voice dropped to a lower, sultry tone. “I’ve always wanted to make love on a bearskin rug.”

“Have you?” Jack’s arm tightened around her, stroking her skin where the silk of her long-sleeved undershirt met that of her long underwear. “It’s too bad that we left your family planning device back at the car, because that does sound like an adventure.”

“Don’t be silly, Jack. It’s in my coat pocket.” Her smile was sunny, and Jack huffed out a laugh. Her coat, like his, was hanging across the room, and he tilted his head back to eye the distance with disfavor. Phryne took the opportunity to run her lips along the side of his arched neck, and he hummed his approval of the sensation.

“Would you get it for me, Jack?” Her words were interspersed with kisses along his neck and the curve where it met his shoulder. He lowered his chin and she met his lips with hers, kissing him deeply, her tongue sliding into his mouth. Blindly, he set his mug aside, hoping that he wouldn’t break it, but needing to get both of his hands on her.

He’d just rolled toward her, his mouth becoming more demanding and his hands sliding under the edge of her shirt when Phryne pushed at his shoulders. 

“My device? Please Jack?” She was breathing heavily now, her hands inside the open front of his suit, her nails scratching lightly against his skin. She had one leg wound around his thigh, which was pressing warmly between her legs. “I want you.”

Jack groaned and dropped his forehead to touch hers, his fingers clenching gently on her ribcage, his thumb lightly stroking the lower curve of her breast. Pressing a hard kiss to her lips, he rolled away and to his feet. Phryne sat up, pulling her undershirt over her head, and then shimmying out of her underwear. By the time Jack had fished her diaphragm case out of her coat, she was nude and stretched out against the warm fur of the rug. She wriggled, enjoying the luxurious feel of the thick fur. It was coarser than she’d thought it might be—nothing at all like fox or mink—but she rather liked it. She knew that Jack’s skin would provide a warm, velvety contrast, and she looked up to watch him as he approached. 

He was masculine beauty in motion, his union suit open nearly to his waist, his erection outlined by the soft cotton, and she shivered with anticipation. As he approached, he pulled the union suit off of his shoulders, revealing first the toned expanse of his chest and stomach, and then the tight, rounded curves of his arms. Phryne bit her lower lip, her eyes drifting down to follow the line of dark hair that trailed below his navel to a point still covered in cloth. The angled muscles above his hips cut cleanly downward, and his cock, its shape outlined faithfully by the soft cotton that covered it, bobbed slightly with each step he took. He stopped between her and the fire, and the fading light of the day mingled with the golden firelight to create shadows that defined his muscles further.

Jack held her eyes as he unfastened the last two buttons of his suit and pushed it over his hips, letting it fall to his feet. He stepped away from it, as unashamed of his nakedness as she was—she’d helped him with that, she knew—and knelt beside her.

Popping open the case, he turned it over to let her device fall into his palm, then set the case aside. Moving closer, he stroked a hand over her hip.

“Let me?”

Phryne nodded, her breath escaping her in a whisper that was almost his name. Jack cupped a hand under her thigh, his fingers brushing against her sensitive flesh as he opened her to his touch. Cradling her leg against his chest with one hand, he deftly folded the device over his finger and slid it into her body. When he’d placed the rubber, he didn’t remove his hand, instead adding a second digit and pushing the pad of his thumb against her clitoris.

Phryne fell back against the fur, her hands lifting to her breasts as he began to move his fingers within her, his thumb pressing and circling against her flesh. 

“Jack…” 

“You are more beautiful every time I see you,” he murmured, continuing to slide his fingers in and out of her channel. “And your sensual nature is one of the things I love best about you.” As she moistened, he slid a third finger in alongside the first two, and Phryne’s mouth opened on a gasp of pleasure.

Smiling his sideways smile at her, Jack sped his fingers up even as he moved to lie between her legs, his wide shoulders pushing her thighs farther apart. When he was in position, he watched her body swallow his long, knobby knuckles all the way to their base. “Beautiful,” he breathed, and put his mouth on her.

Phryne keened as the warm air of the cabin was superseded by the heat of Jack’s mouth. He used his lips and tongue to tease her swollen nub, his fingers still working busily inside her. For long minutes, he suckled at her most intimate flesh, then he raised his head and blew across the sensitized point before warming it with his mouth again. One of Phryne’s hands dropped to grasp his hair and her legs wrapped around him, her heels digging into the fire-warmed muscles of his back for a moment before she gasped and lifted the injured one away. Jack paused, raising his head, but she pushed him back down.

“Don’t you dare stop, Jack Robinson,” she ground out. He chuckled as he applied himself to his task, redoubling his efforts when she moaned and let her head fall back against the thick fur of the rug.

Phryne groaned with pleasure as he worked her—he’d clamped his hands over her hips to keep her still, but she continued to writhe in his grasp. Her eyes heavy with pleasure, she lifted her head to look down her body; he was watching her face, his mouth buried in her tender flesh. When she met his eyes, he grinned and sucked hard at her clitoral hood, using his tongue to press it carefully against the sharp edge of his teeth.

She came with a wail, her body stiffening and her hands clenching. Her thighs pulled together, pressing against his ears as he continued to suck softly at her, his fingers held deep within.

“Oh god, Jack…” she gasped, when she could speak, “...you’re so good at that.” 

“I’ll admit to a devotion to the work,” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers and pressing one last kiss to her turgid peak. “And the woman.” Pushing up to his knees, he crawled up her body to kiss her, pressing his hips against hers as he devoured her mouth.

Phryne moaned and canted her hips as he slid his cock inside her, her swollen tissues sensitive with release.

“Jack,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around him as she kissed him back. She could taste herself in his kiss—the only thing better was when they’d both had their mouths on the other and they could trade those flavors.

“Phryne…” He exhaled her name as he began to move within her, the broad head of his cock dragging along the walls of her passage with each long stroke. “You feel so good.”

He pushed up on his hands to give himself more leverage, and Phryne stroked her hands down his hard chest, grasping his waist as he stroked in and out of her body.

“My Jack,” she whispered, and felt him shudder; he paused, buried deep inside her, as he gathered himself. When he began to thrust again, it was with more power and speed, and she opened her knees, widening her hips to give him room to move.

Phryne could not take her eyes off of him—he was breathtaking, the firelight gilding his skin, his jaw clenched with effort, the curls of his hair falling carelessly across his forehead and bouncing slightly with each movement of his body into hers. A light sheen of sweat covered his shoulders, and his skin where she touched it was warm; the sensations of his repeated penetration, each thrust pressing against her sensitized clitoris, and the soft but slightly rough texture of the fur against her back were mesmerizing. 

Moving her hands back up his chest, she stroked her open palms over his smooth skin, hooking one hand under his shoulder to anchor herself and sliding the other around the back of his neck.

“More, Jack,” she moaned, “harder.”

“Fuck,” he breathed. And then he was pulling out of her, his hands on her hips flipping her over. He covered her again, his cock spearing back into her body with renewed vigor; her breasts and clit dragged back and forth over the rug with each thrust and retreat.

“Oh god, Jack!” She gasped, her arms stretching out to take handfuls of Seymour’s fur in an attempt to keep herself anchored. “Yes, more!”

With a grunt, he lifted himself up farther, hitching her hips up to meet him. She wailed as she lost the friction of fur against her clit, and then groaned as his thrusts became more powerful. He pounded into her, his balls slapping at her with each forward motion of his hips; Phryne’s mouth was open in a rictus of pleasure, each thrust pushing words out of her, “yes” or “Jack” or “please” in combinations she no longer controlled.

“Fuck, Phryne, I can’t… I’m…” Jack came on a shout, his final thrust pressing deep within her and his body bowing over her back as his hips stuttered against hers. She loved it when he lost control; the warm pulses of his release within her body triggered her orgasm, which rolled up her body, tightening her muscles and causing her hands to clench in fists, the fur of the rug seeming to hold her to the earth as climax sent her flying.

When his orgasm passed, Jack’s muscles relaxed and he held himself still, his cock buried inside her, his hands on her hips where they rested on his bent knees, his forehead against the small of her back. Phryne kneaded the thick fur of the rug with her hands, practically purring in pleasure as her muscles loosened in the aftermath. After long moments, Jack withdrew and stretched out beside Phryne, who still lay bonelessly sprawled on the rug. His lips quirked up at the corners as he smoothed her hair away from her face.

“Mmm,” she murmured, smiling sleepily at him. “You outdid yourself. That was wonderful.”

“Well, Seymour helped,” he said, and Phryne laughed.

“Seymour did help,” she said, stretching as she rolled to snuggle close to his side, a small shiver running over her as the sweat dried on their skin. Jack reached out an arm to tug the blanket off of the sofa and pull it over the two of them. “You’d be surprised at what a little additional texture does.” She pressed a kiss to his chest. “I’ll show you later.”

Jack laughed softly. “I should save my strength, Miss Fisher. What if I need to carry you out of here tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry, Jack, I’ll do all the work. You can just lie back and enjoy yourself.” Phryne smiled against his skin, shifting her hips to feel the fur beneath her. “Besides, I might need another day to recover.”

“A whole day? Won’t you get bored?” He grinned, knowing the answer already.

“Oh, I’ll think of something to pass the time, Jack,” she purred, sliding a hand down his belly to rest comfortably over his groin. 

Jack drew in a breath, then relaxed as she stilled, her hand doing nothing more than gently cupping him. He pressed a kiss to her head and closed his eyes, contentedly listening to her breath as it deepened into sleep. If they stayed an extra day, he might starve, but he was certain she’d make it worth the hardship.


End file.
